Of Peaches and Blood
by Magical Authoress
Summary: Towards the end of her seventh year, Hermione Granger makes two unexpected discoveries - a vaccine for an unforgivable, and love for a man who is as deep as he is dark.
1. Chapter 1

****

Title: Of Peaches and Blood

****

Author: Magical Me

****

Summary: Towards the end of her seventh year, Hermione Granger makes two unexpected discoveries – a vaccine for an unforgivable and love for a man who is as deep as he is dark.

****

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is the property of the brilliant JK Rowling – everything else is mine.

****

A/N: This is the result of my insomnia. That is to say, every night when I'm sent to go to bed, I write a story as I struggle to fall asleep. I wanted to create something as characteristic as possible – I do hope I have, so enjoy. Oh, and constructive criticism is more than welcome.

~*~

Chapter 1

She absently ran her left hand through the riot of chocolate curls piled atop her head while chewing the nails on her right. Intently, she gazed at the bubbling contents inside the stone-gray pewter cauldron.

The nervousness was simply radiating off her face and her bedroom reeked of the stench being produced from her cauldron. 

Cautiously, she added the dragon snap's root to the simmering mixture and stirred it with an iron paddle. While her left hand swirled the mixture in circular motions, her right drew back to mop the sweat off her forehead.

At last, the potion turned a shocking pink. A wave of relief spread through her as the completion of brewing her discovery came nearer.

_Discovery indeed._

If she had played her cards right, Hermione Granger had just brewed the vaccination to the Cruciatus curse.

~*~

"By gods, Miss Granger. I think you've really done it," Albus Dumbledore mused softly as he held the beaker up to the sunlight pouring in via the overly large bay window behind him.

"Astonishing," he murmured finally as he put the potion back on the top of his mahogany desk. He smiled at her kindly. "Pardon my asking, Miss Granger, but have you, erm – _tested _ your discovery yet, by chance?"

She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "Erm – no, but theoretically, my research proves that by infusing the concepts--"

His eyes danced brightly behind his half-moon shaped spectacles as he peered at her. "I have no doubt about that, my dear. Though I daresay it would be wise to test it, no?"

Her eyes were downcast as she delivered her next response. "I wouldn't dare cast an unforgivable, sir," she muttered.

The Headmaster chuckled. "Dear me, I should hope not. However, there is someone who can assist us in multiple areas of this matter."

_Oh, gods – no, not… _

"Severus!" Dumbledore bellowed into the roaring fire.

"Yes, Headmaster?" came the curt reply.

"I am in need of your service in my office at this minute."

"Yes, sir."

Seconds later, her Potions professor materialized out of the flames. 

"Headmaster, what could be so possibly pressing for you to--"

A quick nod in Hermione's direction caused a quirk of an eyebrow and the hint of a sneer. "Well, well. Has the Gryffindor know-it-all gotten herself into yet another spot of trouble?" He scanned the room. "And where would our beloveds Potter and Weasley be?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, no…nothing like that, Severus. Our brilliant Miss Granger has made a most remarkable discovery." He handed Snape the beaker and motioned for him to sit in the chair next to Hermione.

He sat down and studied the syrupy pink liquid. "What sort of rubbish is this?"

"For your information, Professor, you happen to be holding the vaccine to the Cruciatus curse," she answered matter-of-factly.

He snorted. "Albus, she's mad. She's only a little girl--"

He was silenced as Hermione indignantly held her wand in the air and spat, "Accio research." Seconds later, a rather large and very full folder flew into the room and with a quick flick of her wand, they landed squarely in the middle of Snape's lap.

"Read on, Professor."

Casting her a sideways glare, Snape hastily began to shuffle through the stack of parchment. By a simple scan of the top page where she had neatly listed the potion's ingredients, the Potions Master looked up at the Headmaster and said bitterly, "Sir, Miss Granger has clearly broken many rules. She used many ingredients which one could find only in my private stores--"

"Oh, honestly, Professor!" Hermione snapped. "How I came to be in possession of these substances is of no importance. And for the record, _Professor Snape_, there _are _students who make actual purchases from the Apothecary, you know. And besides, adequate research is not able to be conducted without a full store, as you should very well know."

Snape considered this, then in a menacing tone slowly asked, "Then where, Miss Granger, did you find adequate area space to conduct such an experiment?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I am, after all, Head Girl--"

"With good reason," Dumbledore inserted delightedly.

"--Which therefore entitles me to my private set of quarters."

"And you readily had proper funding?" he inquired sarcastically.

Suddenly, Hermione shot up out of her seat and yelled, "I refuse to sit here and be questioned about my credibility as though I've committed a crime! Furthermore, I would like to be respected and not insulted." She turned to Professor Dumbledore. "Sir, I thank you for your kindness all the same. Should the Potions Master cease the condescension, you know how to contact me and may do so. Good day," and with a flurry of robes, she stormed out of the Headmaster's office.

Both men who still remained were quiet at first.

"Severus," Dumbledore began warningly, "that was completely uncalled for."

"Oh, come off it, Albus!" he roared. "You think that this insufferable little girl would make a better Potions professor than I would?"

Dumbledore frowned. "Severus, never have I doubted your ability at a subject that you most certainly excel at. Potions is your forte, and I hardly think it fair for you to assume that I would employ a young lady twenty years your junior in your replacement."

He snorted. "Nevertheless, Albus. You can't possibly believe that she's created a weapon against an _unforgivable._"

"Ah, but I do. She has an extraordinary intellect and, as it appears, you both share that as well as a love for research."

Snape stopped. True, the Granger girl was smart, and also true was that he adored research above all things -- but to compare _him_ to _her_ was an absolutely absurd thought.

"Severus, I want you to read her work. We cannot simply send her away saying that you refused to look at it. And when you determine whether or not she has made a breakthrough in Potions, you will see her fit. Do I make myself clear?" he stressed.

"Perfectly," he grumbled.

"Now off you go." He made a motion with his hand. "Lemon drop?" he offered.

"No," Snape replied succinctly.

~*~

Hermione sat in the middle of her four-poster bed, silent. 

_What is that greasy git playing at? If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's damn well jealous!_

She snorted to herself. _Yeah, that'll be the day. _

A soft knock came at her door just then. 

"Open up, Miss Granger!" a muffled voice growled.

_Snape._

"What do _you _ want?"

"Perhaps if you would open the door, an explanation may be given," he answered crossly.

Sighing, she directed a quiet "_sangue sporco_" towards the closed door and looked down as it swung open.

"Italian, Miss Granger?" he queried.

She shrugged. "My grandmother."

"Ah." He hovered in the doorway.

"You're allowed to come in, Professor. Just shut the door and take a seat near the window."

"I prefer standing; at any rate, congratulations, Miss Granger. You've proven yourself to be quite the know-it-all," he bit acerbically. 

_Did he just compliment me?_

"Your research shows no flaws _as of yet._ However, it would be wise for us to test the potion as soon as possible. I expect you to report to the dungeons tomorrow evening directly after dinner."

"You're going to help me?"

He sighed. "As far as the Headmaster is concerned, I don't seem to have many other options."

_Ah._

"Professor, to test the potion one must actually cast the Cruciatus curse on a human subject. No other creature will do, simply due to the fact that I've structured the potion specifically for the needs--"

"Naturally," he cut in sardonically. "As much as I would like to cast the curse on your nosy little Gryffindor self, I'm afraid it would go against the school rules. Therefore, I have decided to cast the curse on myself."

Her eyes went wide. "That's highly lucrative, but also extremely dangerous! I refuse for you to put yourself in danger for the sake of my research."

He smirked. "How very _Gryffindor _of you. I daresay Minerva would agree with me. However, as you may or may not know, I have both been under the curse as well as cast it. Therefore, it would be in everyone's best interest for me to take that particular course of action. And besides, it's not as if your peers as well as the younger students wouldn't be most satisfied should the curse prove fatal."

"That's a disgusting way to look at things," she spat.

" 'There is no doubt that life is given us, not to be enjoyed, but to be overcome—to be got over'."

"Schopenhauer," she said briefly, "was clearly a manic depressive. And whether or not you think you need the world, the world needs you."

Snape snorted. "Hardly that, Miss Granger. After all, it was you who just created a vaccine for the Cruciatus curse and not me."

"Is that what this is about, Professor? The fact that someone else did it before you? And a _Gryffindor _at that! I daresay Mr. Slytherin wouldn't approve of that, now, would he?" she cried.

"I have nothing more to say to you, Miss Granger. As previously mentioned, you are expected in the dungeons tomorrow evening. Good day. Oh, and," he added, "_do _try to keep your brain from imploding – after all, the 'world needs you'." With one last sneer, he vanished from her doorway.

_Git._

~*~

The next day at dinner, Hermione was very quiet.

"What's eating you, 'Mione?" Ron asked noncommittally. 

"Harry, please pass the butter," she said primly.

After taking a long glance between his two best friends, Harry shrugged and passed her the small plate.

"Thank you." Hermione began to slather liberal amounts of butter onto her roll. However, just as she began to use up the rest of the stick, she started violently puncturing the bread.

Harry gently took the knife from her. "It's not really like you to kill your dinner."

"I'm not _killing_ anything," she announced. 

Ron snorted.

"Calm down. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Just peachy," Hermione squeaked.

From down the table, Ginny gave her a consoling look. "It's no wonder she hasn't got any sanity left – _you _took it all away!" she declared, pointedly looking at her brother.

"Don't knock it, Gin," Ron said in between mouthfuls of Salisbury steak. "She's probably mad she got 125% on some ruddy assignment."

Hermione simply rolled her eyes and shoved the rest of the roll into her mouth. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be leaving to see Snape now."

Three pairs of wide eyes and dropped jaws saw her out the Great Hall.

~*~

"Enter, Miss Granger," Snape beckoned from his desk. He looked up at Hermione from the pile of rolled parchment he had been grading. "Did you bring the potion?"

"That would be terribly foolish of me if I'd have forgotten," she said pointedly, producing the phial from her robe pockets and handing it to him.

"Sit," he demanded as he accepted the bottle.

She sat in the desk closest to his and looked at him expectantly.

"Tell me how the potion will function."

Hermione took a deep breath. "You see, sir, I've taken the concept of a simple Armoring Fluid and fused it together with the idea of both pain killers and reducers. By taking only the most active and principle ingredients from such, I've created somewhat of a pain-numbing protection potion."

"And exactly how long is this little potion of yours supposed to last the person who drinks it?"

She chewed on her bottom lip. "That depends."

He looked somewhat interested. "On?" he prompted.

"How powerful the Dark Magic that produces the curse is. Well, that and how powerful the one who is being cursed is – if the person's body has already produced a few mild resistors, then the potion may take a greater effect," she said, trying to remember to breathe.

"Take Longbottom, for instance. Supposing he drank 250 milliliters of this potion and Potter hits him with Cruciatus, how long will Longbottom be able to resist the pain? Can you form a hypothesis from this, Miss Granger?"

She considered this. Harry was one of the most powerful wizards in existence while Neville being one of the least competent. 

__

Huh.

"Well, sir, considering the fact that Harry has an incredible amount of power and Neville probably as much less as Harry having more, then I don't suppose for very long," she answered earnestly.

"Miss Granger, Potions is a science – 'not very long' is most certainly not a proper scientific response," he sneered.

"Then to give you an exact time estimate, I would say about fifteen to twenty minutes at minimum," Hermione said curtly.

His face grew somber.

_Bingo._

"That powerful?" he questioned. "The fact that I can channel quite a bit of Dark Magic and the fact that I have, more than likely, developed but a few resistors means that it cancels out, therefore being able to conduct somewhat of an accurate timing, correct?"

She shrugged. "We'll never know until you drink it, will we?"

Eyeing her suspiciously, Snape stood from his desk and strode over to the middle of the classroom. "Make observations," he snapped at her.

Wincing slightly, she summoned a piece of parchment and a quill, and poised herself, ready to write.

Snape pulled the cork out of the phial and wafted the smoke pouring out of it towards his nose. "Repulsive," he muttered.

She grinned.

Realizing it was now or never, Snape wolfed down the potion and drew out his wand. "Crucio," he murmured.

Suddenly, his head began to spin and he became dizzy. Reaching for something to grab on to, he clutched the edge of his desk tightly and his vision turned into nothingness. 

~*~

Poppy Pomfrey clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "Really, Albus, what were you thinking? Making the man perform an Unforgivable on himself after drinking some potion you're not even sure works? That's preposterous!" she exclaimed.

"Now, now, Poppy. He is after all a scientist. Often time experimentation will come to a point where one must take extreme measures for extreme causes," he said, patting her arm gently.

In the left hand corner of the infirmary, Hermione was looking positively sick. Spotting her sense of illness, the Headmaster walked over to her. "My dear Miss Granger," he began, "this is clearly not your fault."

"I shouldn't have let him go through with it," she said quietly.

"Severus Snape is a very stubborn man. Whether you had attempted to stop him or not, he would have ultimately taken it upon himself to conduct the experiment according to his wishes," he explained.

"My potion didn't work," Hermione simply said.

"Quite the contrary, Miss Granger," came a grouchy voice from the only currently occupied bed. 

Dumbledore and Hermione looked up at the dark figure sitting up in bed in astonishment. 

"I felt no pain. However, some particular ingredient in the potion caused a terrible wave of dizziness to pass through, thus resulting in my blackout."

Hermione looked eager.

He snorted. "Yes, this is something that can indeed be fixed. All that needs to be done is isolating that one ingredient and fine-tuning aspects such as duration."

"Professor Snape!" Madame Pomfrey screeched. "Lay back down in your bed this instant!"

"I'm perfectly fine, Madame," he insisted angrily. "Just give me a glass of water and some Dreamless Sleep and leave."

Dumbledore smiled. "Miss Granger, I believe the professor would like some privacy. Perhaps we may discuss this in the morning. I suggest you get some rest."

Hermione nodded dumbly and left the infirmary.

_I really did it…_

She smiled.

~*~

****

A/N: Review, please! Goodness knows I can do with many more improvements. You can send new ideas as well! Thank you for reading. 


	2. Chapter 2

****

Title: Of Peaches and Blood

****

Author: Magical Me

****

Summary: Towards the end of her seventh year, Hermione Granger makes two unexpected discoveries – a vaccine for an unforgivable and love for a man who is as deep as he is dark.

****

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is the property of the brilliant JK Rowling – everything else is mine.

****

A/N: I finally got around to writing chapter two. The interim was spent in California, which was possibly the worst trip I have ever taken. I actually went for my sister's graduation (who, by the way, is a proud graduate of Stanford's class of '03 – haha). Spending time with her was the only good portion. Everything else felt so lost and lonely. Everyone has changed, but I guess I have too. It sucked because everyone was being so insensitive! The first thing they say to me is "WOW! You've gained weight!" Christ. I was _so_ sensitive about that whole issue and then they all go and rub it in. Just peachy. Anyway, here you go.

~*~

Chapter 2

When Hermione awoke the next morning, she found a small hand-written note on her bedside table.

__

Miss Granger –

Professor Snape has fully recovered last night's experimentation. I must ask you, however, not to inflict the curse on a human subject until further notice. I trust you understand why. Regardless of such, Professor Snape wishes to continue with the lesser work this evening promptly after supper. Please take caution. Good luck.

Regards,

Albus Dumbledore

"Great," she muttered under her breath. "Snape after dinner – just wonderful."

~*~

"Don't bother her!" Ginny hissed, watching as Ron looked eagerly at the portrait that guarded the entrance into the Head Girl's room directly from the Gryffindor common room.

"Yeah, Ron. Gin's right. She didn't look too pleased about what you said to her yesterday," Harry agreed.

"Ugh. You two ruin everything. And anyway, it might be nice to get a surprise, wouldn't it?" Ron persisted.

Ginny snorted. "Not from _you._"

"Oh stuff it!" he cried. "I'm through with this." He flopped exasperatedly onto the couch. 

"But really, what do you suppose was going on yesterday? And with _Snape, _of all people!" Harry wondered.

Ginny shrugged. "It isn't any of our business, now is it? If Hermione is ready to tell us, she will. But for now, I advise you _not _to go snooping around," she warned.

"Yeah, yeah."

But secretly, Ron had become suspicious and he intended to find out what was going on.

~*~

It was a bright and sunny Saturday morning. Hermione wistfully looked out the window at the large courtyard wishing she could study outside.

__

If only it weren't a scorcher out.

Oh well.

Feeling nostalgic, she walked briskly into the library. She returned Madame Pince's warm smile with one of her own, and quickly headed straight for the back into the Restricted Section.

From the corner of his eye, a young man watched her, amused. 

__

Restricted Section, eh? Good girl, Hermione.

He was seated at one of the more veiled tables in the fiction side of the library, a place he figured Hermione wouldn't see him.

Hermione, being wrapped up in her own world, barely noticed the moving flaming red in front of her face.

She shrieked.

"Ron!" she scolded. "What on earth are you doing here? And don't say homework," she added as an afterthought.

Ron blushed a brilliant red. "Erm – I came to see you, Hermione."

"Whatever for!" She looked at her wristwatch. "We've got only twenty-five minutes until lunch. Unless this is some sort of an emergency, then clearly it could have waited!"

__

Emergency, huh? 

But how am I supposed to kill her whereabouts and the issue of Snape with one stone?

"Um, I need your help."

She looked at him expectantly. "With?"

"My Potions paper," he declared triumphantly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That paper is not due for another three weeks. Of course _I've _finished it, but you've got to be joking if you think that I'm about to believe you want to start on it now."

__

Oh. Right.

"Gotcha. Maybe some other time?" he asked.

She continued to thumb through the dusty books along the shelf. "I suppose so."

__

Boys.

~*~

"You did _what _?" Ginny Weasley screeched.

Her brother shrugged and looked into his stew thoughtfully. "I went to see her in the library – no big deal."

Lavender Brown, who had a keen interest in everyone else's business, leaned over. "Stalker!" she squealed in delight. "Ooh! Wait'll I tell Parvati!" 

Harry snorted and took another swig of his pumpkin juice. 

"Ronald Weasley, I am _very_ disappointed in you. Regardless of how concerned you are you need to give the girl space! Do I make myself clear?"

__

She sounds exactly like Mum.

"Crystal," he answered dryly.

Neville put his head in the conversation. "Er – hate to burst your bubble, guys, but here comes Hermione."

The Head Girl looked flushed. 

__

Everyone is staring because…?

"Hi, Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed. "Have a seat, will you?"

__

Hm.

"That's why I came here in the first place," she said suspiciously, sitting next to Harry who seemed distant enough to be sane. "What's going on?" she whispered to him. 

"Ginny went off on Ron for having followed you into the library. They had a small row about how you need your space and stuff," he explained quietly.

She rolled her eyes. "They're all carrying this a bit too far, don't you think?" Hungrily, Hermione dug into her lunch.

"A bit, yeah."

__

Good to know someone's still normal.

~*~ 

Hermione had quite the tuck-in at lunch and was in no mood for dinner. She absently wondered whether or not Snape would mind seeing her a half-hour prior to the scheduled time. Supposing he had a visitor?

She snorted softly.

__

Not bloody likely.

But what if someone saw her wandering about the Slytherin dungeons? No, that wasn't possible – everyone would be at dinner, and the only other person to watch out for was exactly who she wanted to see.

Hermione decided to pay Snape an early visit.

~*~

Snape cradled his pounding head in his hands, elbows placed firmly on his desk. His long fingers rubbed his temples in a circular motion as he closed his eyes.

__

Peace at last. No disgustingly nosy Pomfrey, and the Headmaster has decided to give me a bit of privacy – minutes of which there are precious few. Unfortunately, the Gryffindor brain is due to arrive within the next twenty minutes. 

Damn.

A knock came at the door.

__

Bloody hell.

"Who is it?" he snapped.

"Erm – Professor, it's me."

__

Granger.

"Do you need a watch, Miss Granger? Perhaps then you will realize that you are far too early for our appointment."

"I realize that, sir. I didn't think you'd mind or that--"

Reluctantly, Snape stood up and crossed the room, flinging the door open to a bemused Hermione.

"Or _what, _Miss Granger?"

She closed her mouth.

"Nothing, sir."

"Surely you can finish your sentence." His eyes narrowed.

"Erm – I just wasn't so sure you'd be doing much else, sir – that's all."

__

Brat.

"I see. Well, come in, already. The sooner you begin to waste my time, the sooner it will end." He motioned her inside.

As soon as she entered the classroom, Hermione subconsciously sat in the same seat she had the night before just as Snape sat himself back into his desk.

"Begin."

"With---?"

"Your questioning, you foolish girl!" he sneered. "Don't you want to hear about what happened to your awful Potions professor last night?"

__

Whoa.

"I thought you already told me," she said honestly.

"Excuse me?"

Growing more confidence, Hermione cleared her throat. "Sir, you told me that something in the potion caused you to black out, but that initially you did not feel any of the pain inflicted."

He rolled his eyes. "Quite. But as every good scientist knows, details are crucial, and I expect no less from you. So begin."

She reached into her knapsack and pulled out a sugar quill, an inkbottle, and several rolls of parchment. "What did you feel as soon as you drank the potion before the curse was cast?"

"My tongue went through hell, if that's what you are looking for, Miss Granger."

Hermione laughed.

__

Snape has humor.

Hastily, she scribbled his words down. "Now, did your body undergo any changes at that point?"

"None that I felt," he admitted.

"That's bad."

Intrigued, Snape queried, "How so?"

"Simply because the drinker should know what's coming next. We need to put something in the potion to make his or her body aware of the fact that the potion is about to begin working. Somewhat of a warning, I suppose one could surmise. So in the event that the potion fails," – here she winced – "they would be aware."

He snorted in amusement. "Aware of the fact that they're about to die of pain, Miss Granger?"

She smiled wryly. "Something like that."

"Charming."

Hermione cleared her throat. "How did you feel once the curse was cast?"

"The same, albeit the extreme dizziness and lack of vision."

"But otherwise no pain?"

"No."

"Was your dizziness painful?"

"Excuse me?"

"Er – dumb question – just disregard that."

"I plan on it."

The minutes ticked by as they went through the process of question and answer as well as hypothesizing. They came up with a list of potential ingredients to be either added or dismissed from the potion. During their break, Snape summoned up tea. They sat in the chairs nearest to the fireplace.

"Sugar and cream, Miss Granger?"

"Both, please." 

Carefully, he passed her the mug. Noticing his empty hands, Hermione asked, "Won't you be having any, Professor?"

In response to her question, another mug zoomed out of the fireplace and into his clasped hands. "I much prefer coffee."

"Just black? No sugar, even?"

"No." He shook his head. "I believe this is what the Muggles would call _straight up._"

She laughed. "Yes – yes, it is."

Snape swallowed the unflavored liquid and held the sip in his mouth, savoring its bitterness. 

"_Malato,_" she muttered. 

"How so?"

"What?" She slowly sipped from her cup.

"_Perché è malato_?" 

Hermione was caught completely off guard and nearly spit out her tea. "Excuse me?"

Snape smirked. "I was under the impression that you spoke Italian, Miss Granger. What is it about my question you find so perplexing? I simply asked why you find it 'sick', as you put it. Clearly you do not have a full grasp of the language."

__

Oh dear.

"Not the question, sir – merely the fact that you speak Italian at all came as a surprise," she confessed.

"Then how, pray tell, would I have been able to recognize your password the evening before last?"

__

Oh…right.

"I had forgotten about that."

"Filthy blood is quite an unsuitable password for someone of your _stature._"

She snorted and raised the mug to her lips. "What do you know?" she mused softly.

"And what do you mean by that?"

"Just the fact that you obviously don't know anything about me," Hermione retorted.

He quieted, and then gulped some more coffee. "I wouldn't say that."

__

What?

"Oh?"

"I know that you are Hermione Granger, a seventh year and Head Girl of Hogwarts. Since the day that you first appeared in my class, you have been nothing but an insufferable know-it-all who enjoys torturing her teachers as well as peers by exerting her bookish knowledge upon them. You are friends with Misters Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter, whose mischievous minds put your safety in peril, not to mention your reputation. Towards the end of each school year, your dunderhead friends and yourself enjoy meddling in affairs with the Dark Lord or else dangerous criminals who have escaped from Wizarding prison and feel as though it is your duty to save the world with your Gryffindor heroism. Need I continue?" he asked smugly.

"If you think that is an adequate description, Professor, you are sadly mistaken," she said quietly.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Naturally my knowledge doesn't include your Muggle life, Italian grandmothers and such, but you can't expect it to."

"Gran isn't Italian. She just settled in Florence for early retirement," Hermione said angrily. 

Snape quirked an eyebrow. "Florence? And you say she's a Muggle?"

"As Muggle-English as they come."

"Well, your grandmother is living in one of Europe's biggest Wizarding hubbubs," he informed her acerbically.

"I very much doubt she knows," she retorted.

"Is she informed of your being a witch?"

"No," Hermione admitted. "The only family members who know are my parents."

"Ah."

"Now," Snape began. He lightly brushed his hands on the napkin next to him and stood. "If you've finished your incessant chatter, we may as well continue."

Hermione gritted her teeth.

__

We'll see about this.

****

A/N: Yay! Hope this is going well. Review, please – add as much constructive criticism as possible.


	3. Chapter 3

****

Title: Of Peaches and Blood

****

Author: Magical Me

****

Summary: Towards the end of her seventh year, Hermione Granger makes two unexpected discoveries – a vaccine for an unforgivable and love for a man who is as deep as he is dark.

****

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is the property of the brilliant JK Rowling – everything else is mine

****

A/N: Okay. _Chapitre trois – _already! I'm on a roll. This sort of reminds me of TLSYH, in the sense that I had uncovered the plot at an early stage and the chapters just kept pouring out. I do hope it exceeds the number of chapters from TLSYH! Ten just doesn't cut it. Haha. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. I know I had a great time writing it. 

~*~

Chapter 3

The next morning was one of the precious few where Hermione was sent various pieces of mail other than the Daily Prophet. She sat in her place at the breakfast table alone and was rather startled upon seeing a large barn owl delivering a letter from her grandmother. Gran's only way to send her mail was via her parents who used Owl Post only when attempting to correspond with her whilst she was at Hogwarts.

__

Dearest Hermione—

I apologize profusely for this delayed letter. I do hope you'll forgive me. Anyway, I'm afraid that my next letter won't be written for quite some time either. I'll be visiting an old friend of mine in a place…well…in a place I don't think you've heard much of. I'll be spending the majority of my time working, hence my excuse. So sorry, Mina. 

Though if you'd like to continue Italian lessons through correspondence after I return, I'd be more than happy to do it. In fact, I've just dug up an interesting quotation: "Amore è come pesche e sangue - inacidisce, amaro, profondo, magro, e soddisfare, ma la maggior parte di tutto - dolce."

Translation (though I do hope you'd have figured it out before having read this): "Love is like peaches and blood -- sour, bitter, deep, thin, and satisfying, but most of all - sweet."

I found it especially profound since peaches are your favorite fruit, and you and I have always had a fascination with 'sangue', especially if it is 'sporco'. You remember how it was. Plus, you're a young woman now, Mina – seize your opportunities and indulge in all that life has to offer – especially love. I can't explain it to you in its entirety – just know that when you find him, you'll know…just the same way I did with your grandfather.

Well, that's all for now. Good luck in your studies – you'll go off to a wonderful University, I just know it. 

All my love,

Gran

As Hermione reread the quotation, it began to make more and more sense. Gran was incredible at recognizing what was so typically her – the quotation was the absolute evidence. Tucking the letter into her robe pockets, Hermione rose from the Gryffindor table that was deep in discussion and headed outside for a walk.

~*~

It was one of those days.

Always a Sunday.

One of those days when Hermione felt it was time to return to the Muggle world whilst inside Hogwarts.

__

Playing a double role.

Just like Snape.

"Weird, that," she muttered to herself. Shaking off the thought, she grabbed several Victorian era novels and headed to her private common room that she shared with Ernie Macmillan, the Head Boy.

The Head common room came something of a shock to Hermione when she and Ernie were first introduced to their new living spaces at the beginning of the year. From the outside, their common room was veiled by one of the most beautiful paintings she had ever seen – a lush, green meadow through which unicorns glided through. The unicorn that was closest to them, Starla, was the one who required the password. Through the portrait hole laid a large room that was nearly three quarters the size of the Gryffindor common room. The rugs strewn across the wood flooring added a homey touch to their environment. Two large, high-backed chairs faced the fireplace of which there was always a blazing fire. There were couches on opposite sides of the room, and next to those were two large, sturdy desks embossed with 'Head Girl – Hermione Granger of Gryffindor' and 'Head Boy – Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff'. 

Eager to get on with her reading, Hermione settled herself in the love seat next to her desk and opened her book. 

__

Nothing like a good Jane Austen novel to keep your mind off of things.

Though as she entered the middle portion of _Pride and Prejudice_, she couldn't help but feel that Mr. Darcy suspiciously resembled Snape.

Hermione shuddered.

~*~

Snape tore the string tied to the owl's foot off with his pocketknife. He unclasped the envelope and studied the seal carefully – a curvy initial imprinted over a cauldron with a wand lying across it.

__

Cass.

Cassandra Watson was his former Potions mentor from his days as a student in Italy. In those days, Cass was like a goddess to him – she breathed and slept Potions and was eager to teach him all that she knew – including Italian. She was a fairly sagacious woman; nearly twenty years his senior, Cass was probably in her sixties by now.

He smirked recalling the way the Granger girl had been so shocked to hear him speak the language.

__

It would have made Cass proud.

Studying Potions in Italian was something Snape would not have imagined to be as blissful as it was. With Cass's wisdom and leadership plus the beauty, not to mention complexity, of the language, it became little drops of heaven – and Snape was sure to have absorbed them all. 

Eagerly, he tore open the envelope and hurriedly pulled the piece of rolled parchment apart. 

Snape scanned the brief message.

She had accepted.

For the first time in fifteen years, he was going to see Cassandra Watson – but this time…

…at Hogwarts.

~*~

Snape twiddled his thumbs around the handle of his coffee mug. From behind the desk in front of him, the Headmaster was smiling.

"I still can't see how you can drink that rubbish, Severus."

"It's quite simple, really. Especially when you haven't got a sweet tooth the size of a hippogriff," he said sardonically.

Dumbledore sipped his tea thoughtfully. "Perhaps."

__

Silence.

"So what exactly was it that you wanted to see me about, Severus?"

"Ah, yes. Well, do you remember Cassandra Watson?"

Dumbledore frowned momentarily. "Not that I know of, -- oh! Yes, yes, of course. Lovely young Italian woman, was she?"

Snape snorted. "Young would hardly be the adjective of choice, though in comparison to yourself, Headmaster, that is quite another story."

Dumbledore chuckled good-naturedly. "Quite. Ah, I remember now. I believe she's the only Potions Mistress in Italy?"

"Mmm. At any rate, I've taken the liberty of inviting her to Hogwarts to assist Miss Granger and myself with the vaccination."

"Wise decision."

"I'm aware."

"When is she to arrive?"

"Tomorrow morning. I don't have a class until after lunch, so I plan on speaking to her until then. I'll inform Miss Granger of our guest after her class tomorrow." He winced. "Gryffindor seventh years – my favorite," he commented dryly.

"They are a rather extraordinary young group, I'll agree," Dumbledore added merrily.

__

I'll ignore that.

"So where will our Potions Mistress reside during her stay?"

"The dungeons, as I see it. That way, she'll have access to my labs and such."

The Headmaster's eyes twinkled. "As I recall, Severus, I believe she was a Slytherin."

"Perhaps."

~*~

Hermione heard a strangled voice outside her portrait hole. 

"Erm – cauldron cakes? No! Licorice wands?" she heard it guess.

__

Christ.

She stood up from her desk and decided to physically open the portrait hole, rather than revealing the password. As she flung it open, she placed her hands on her hips. "_Yes, _Ron?"

"Oh, h-h-hi, Hermione!" he stammered.

"As you may or may not recall, Ron, this is _not _the Headmaster's office!"

"Erm – yeah. I know."

"_Well!"_

"Well what?" He was still standing in the doorway.

"What is it you wanted to ask me!" she cried exasperatedly.

"Um…I didn't want to ask you anything. I just wanted to talk to you. You know – see how you're doing."

Hermione waved towards her desk that was loaded down with bits of parchment – and despite the amount of things on her desk, it was all organized in a very neat fashion. "I'm busy, Ron. Thank you for checking, though. And yes, I am fine."

He gulped. "Oh. Right, then."

She looked into his eyes.

__

There's something missing.

She sighed. "Ron. What is it really?"

"I…I just don't feel like we talk as much anymore. You're always off studying and all that load of bullocks. It's just not the same," he said sadly with a twinge of annoyance.

"It's been the same every year. I've always spent the former of my time studying. It never bothered you then. Plus, I wasn't Head Girl – that takes up a lot of time as well, you know," she said matter-of-factly.

"It's different this year!" he exclaimed.

"Different…how?" 

Ron was flustered. "Never mind!" he roared and stomped off back into the Gryffindor common room through the portrait hole.

__

Well, Ron. You don't miss your water 'til the well runs dry.

Let go.

~*~

Harry examined Hermione's handwriting carefully. "So a bat's fang and a vampire fang can't be used in place of each other?" he asked.

Hermione swallowed the carrot she had been chewing and answered, "No, they cannot. The fang's properties change during a proper transformation. So if you were to extract a fang from a bat and also one from the same creature after its transformation, they would be different."

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I see how that works. Thanks loads, Hermione."

"Anytime."

Across the table from them, Ron was scribbling down his Potions homework as well. "Oi! 'Mione!"

"Hmm?"

"What the answer to number four?" he asked thickly through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"Ron! I'm not going to tell you the answer! Do it for yourself!" she cried incredulously.

"But 'ou jus' 'elped 'arry!" he managed to choke out in between the bites of roast chicken.

"I explained something to him after he asked me a specific question. He wanted to know _why, _whereas you simply want to know _what!_"

"Well then can you _explain_ the answer to number four?"

"No!"

"Hmph."

Harry leaned across the table in Ron's direction and hissed, "You git! That _was _number four."

"Oh…oops."

Hermione slammed her book shut. "Lunch will be over in five minutes. We'd best be getting along to Potions now."

Harry and Ron nodded in agreement and stood from the table, rounding up Dean, Seamus, and Neville as well. 

The walk to the dungeons was quieter than usual, mainly because everyone could sense the unfinished business between Hermione and Ron. At last, they had reached the Potions classroom on time and sat in their usual seats. 

Snape seemed slightly less provocative than usual and the class ran without a hitch – that is until Neville melted his seventeenth cauldron for the year, resulting in an extra thirty points from Gryffindor.

Towards the end of the class when they were cleaning, Snape said silkily, "Miss Granger, if you please."

Feeling the watchful eyes of her classmates on her back, Hermione put the cloth she had been holding on top of her desk and walked to the front of the classroom. "Sir?"

"This morning the Potions Mistress of Italy arrived. She's here to assist us with the vaccination. Stay after class and we will have a discussion," he said in a low tone.

Her eyes widened in excitement. "Yes, Professor."

When she returned to her desk, Harry whispered, "What was that all about?"

"Extra credit," she replied smoothly.

__

In a matter of sorts…

"Oh. Do you have to stay after class or something?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, okay. I'll let Ron and Ginny know."

"Thanks, Harry."

"Sure."

Then the bell rang. "You are dismissed," Snape barked.

Hermione watched as the Gryffindors eagerly filed out the doorway.

Finally, she and Snape were alone.

"Why Potions Mistress of Italy?" she asked aloud.

"So we can eat spaghetti, Miss Granger," he said sardonically.

She rolled her eyes.

"Italy is the only country in Europe to have produced an adequate Potions Mistress," he said finally. "I studied with her when I was in Italy."

"Oh."

Suddenly, the door flung open, but Hermione was looking over her notes, and didn't bother to turn around.

"Afternoon, Severus. Aren't you going to introduce me to the brilliant young lady?" a cheerful voice called.

__

Hmm. Oddly familiar…

Hermione turned around.

"G-G-G-Gran?!"

"Mina?"

Snape, albeit his surprise, was rather amused and smirked at the two gaping females. "Apparently introductions would be superfluous, Cass."

~*~

Hermione looked at her grandmother in anger.

"What are you doing at Hogwarts, Mina?"

She sat, lips pursed. "I should ask you the same thing."

"I didn't know you were a witch, lovey!"

"Likewise."

Cass sighed. "How could Peter and Katherine have been so naïve?" she asked, referring to Hermione's parents.

"Do they know _you're_ a witch?" Hermione asked indignantly.

"Erm – no."

"Well there you have it."

"Mina, don't be angry with me."

"I'm not," she spat.

Cass crossed the room and embraced her granddaughter. "Oh, Mina. I'm so sorry. If only I knew…"

Hermione suddenly softened and began to return the hug. "It's okay, Gran. It's better this way, though, isn't it?"

"Mmm."

Snape coughed. "Now that the reunion is finished, may we get on to more pressing matters?"

~*~

****

A/N: Lovely. And, as always, review please! Thank you for reading. 


	4. Chapter 4

****

Title: Of Peaches and Blood

****

Author: Magical Me

****

Summary: Towards the end of her seventh year, Hermione Granger makes two unexpected discoveries – a vaccine for an unforgivable and love for a man who is as deep as he is dark.

****

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is the property of the brilliant JK Rowling – everything else is mine

****

A/N: This chapter was difficult for me to write for more reasons than I care to explain. I had written about five full-length versions of it and had grown quite frustrated in doing so – they all just seemed _wrong. _But Craig stuck it out, cut them all up, and pieced them all together into some goulash that just happens to make sense. Therefore, this chapter is dedicated to Craig. I would also like to thank Sierra for her brilliance in feedback, and an extra special acknowledgment to my primary editor Missy – you've been here with me from the start…it's only fitting that we finish it together.

So to Craig, Sierra, and Missy – thank you for all your hard work and dedication. Without you, this story would not be able to progress. 

****

**CAUTION**: For those of you who are wondering, Ginny's character is based on her portrayal in Order of the Phoenix. With that said, I'd suggest you read that before reading this story – I warn you: the end of this chapter can be viewed as either a major spoiler or a piece of rubbish, as it won't make sense.

~*~

Chapter 4

Ginny Weasley carelessly flipped through a copy of _Witch Weekly. _With a sigh, she clapped the covers together and tossed it onto the wooden coffee table in front of her. Across the Gryffindor common room, her brother sat in a high-backed chair as he subconsciously stared into the blazing fire. 

__

Merlin…

"Ron!" she called.

He didn't stir.

Again, she sighed, though this time out of impatience. She rose from the couch and briskly strode over the Persian rugs, strategically stopping in such a way so as to obscure Ron's vision of the fireplace. Ginny put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot. 

"Ron, you're sulking again."

His sky blue eyes started and cautiously slid upwards to meet another pair. "Yes?" he asked lazily.

"What is the matter with you?" Ginny fumed. She clasped her hands behind her back and began pacing.

"Dunno. What d'you reckon?"

"I wouldn't know if I were asking!" she said angrily.

All the other students who had been sitting around the common room looked up. Sensing the beginning of a sibling row, they exchanged sharp glances amongst themselves and scurried up the two staircases leading to their respective dormitories.

Ron shifted uncomfortably.

"It's Hermione, isn't it?"

No response.

"Isn't it?" Ginny snapped.

"Maybe, maybe not," he answered idly. 

"For Merlin's sake! You're nearly an adult now and you don't know how to pull yourself out of lust," she said and kept up the pacing.

The glow of the fire kissed her long, red mane that was neatly plaited into a single braid. Ron watched as his sister's cheeks took on a tinge of pink.

"Well, I've got news for you, Ronald Weasley. _Grow up!_ And once you have, tell Hermione in a mature fashion."

He shrugged. "She'll hate me."

Ginny pushed up her sleeves and dropped to the floor. She crossed her legs as she said softly, "It's just a little crush – just some little thing."

Ron turned his head downwards and caught her gaze. "No, it isn't," he whispered.

"Do you love her, then?"

"I-I-I dunno."

She smacked her lips and smiled fondly. "I remember the day you came home from your first year at Hogwarts. You looked so hurt – so lost. Then Fred and George ran around saying that you missed your girlfriend – remember that?"

"Yeah."

"Then remember when your ears turned red and you cursed at them?" She didn't wait for a response. "You'd never cursed before – and that's when I asked you and you told me all about her."

"So?"

"So? So! It's been nearly seven years and you haven't uttered a word to her about this – not a one!" she cried. Ginny stretched out her legs straight in front of her and balanced herself by flattening her palms against the carpet. "Bit childish, really. You're always getting so jealous. Especially about Krum!" She shook her head. "As though it weren't obvious enough!"

Ron turned red in the face. "And?"

"And you'd better consider yourself damned lucky that half the time she's not around, because everyone's noticed except her! And I'd suggest you tell her before someone else does."

He grunted by way of reply.

Ginny shook her head and pulled herself off the ground while dusting her hands on the back of her skirt. "Just be careful, Ron," she said quietly. In one fluid motion, she retreated to her dormitory.

~*~

Albus Dumbledore stared at Fawkes thoughtfully. The Phoenix was happily perched upon a levitating stick, scratching himself with his clawed foot. Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at the sight of his familiar's lethargy. "I do wish your Burning Day would come sooner. You're looking rather ill."

His eyes suddenly diverted to the entrance staircase that was revolving upwards at a rapid speed. Unmoved by the potential visitor, Dumbledore seated himself at his desk, picked up a quill, and began writing on a piece of parchment. He did not look up as he called, "Good afternoon, Severus."

Snape growled. Not bothering for an invitation, he seated himself in one of the chairs opposite the Headmaster. "I have interesting news."

Dumbledore dipped his quill in an inkbottle on his right-hand side. "Oh?" He nonchalantly waved his left hand over the empty surface area of his desk, conjuring a silver tea tray laden with biscuits, china, and two steaming pots.

Without hesitation, Snape's long fingers grasped the coffee pot handle and he gently tipped a portion of its contents into a mug.

"You were saying?" the Headmaster prompted.

"It seems as though Cass and Miss Granger have" – his eyes flickered – "had previous experiences with one another."

He looked up and set his quill down. "Have they?"

"Indeed. Infact, Miss Granger happens to be Cass's granddaughter." He sipped at the coffee with an amused expression. 

Dumbledore reached for a biscuit. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Now, was Miss Granger appalled or thrilled?" he asked while pouring himself a mug of cocoa from the other pot.

Snape smirked. "Both. At first, she was quite bothered by it and accused Cass of lying to her. But as this was all a big misunderstanding and lack of communication, Miss Granger had no choice but to accept defeat."

"Ah, I thought so."

"If you ask me, that girl's behavior is far too predictable."

"Mmm – though she can be quite stubborn, yes?"

"Quite."

"I once had the misfortune of running into Miss Granger while she was studying for her N.E.W.Ts. She was in such a hurry that she accidentally ran into me and threatened to hex my eyes out." He chuckled. "She's quite committed to her studies."

Snape snorted. "Obsessive, really. Her face is constantly buried in a book. It's fairly irritating."

Dumbledore smiled. "I recall your student days to be rather similar – though you may correct me if I am mistaken."

"When have you have mistaken _anything, _Headmaster?" he asked acidly.

"Well, now that you mention it, I remember when I was in my second year…"

~*~

Hermione idly trailed her hand along the dusty bookshelf, running her fingers up and down the spines. At last, her hand rested upon the wanted book entitled, Unforgivable and Unforgettable: The History and Structure of the Illegal Three. She pulled it off the shelf and started violently; the wooden stool she was standing on was constantly wriggling beneath her. She grabbed hold of the middle shelf and balanced herself as she stepped down.

Book in hand, Hermione wandered over to the table she had left her bag at. As she seated herself, she drew in a deep breath, savoring the smell of old parchment, and looked up at the towering shelves surrounding her.

__

I love the way the shelves loom over your head – like the knowledge is waiting above you, almost as a challenge.

And to her it was.

Pushing those thoughts aside, she concentrated on the book she had placed in front of her. In one swift motion, she opened it and began to read.

__

"—All three of the Unforgivables are structured in such a way that no countercurse may be created. Many great wizards, including Franz Nielsen, attempted to develop charms and countercurses, but to no avail. As of yet, not potion has allowed a person to resist Imperius, stay strong in the presence of Cruciatus, or block Avada Kedavra. However--"

Hermione quickly shut the book.

For the first time, she realized that she was about to disprove all the history books.

__

It's about bloody time.

~*~

He shook his platinum blonde hair out of his eyes and swiftly ran a hand through it. 

__

The Mudblood is sitting two tables away.

He eyed Granger with the utmost contempt. As usual, books surrounded her, though this time the one she had been reading lay forgotten in front of her on the table. How was it that she, a filthy slut with Muggles for parents, was in fact the top in their class?

__

Revolting.

No girl of such abhorred heritage deserved such a thing. His father wanted her dealt with…

…and wouldn't he be happy to see to it.

~*~

Hermione started – she was still sitting at her table in the library and dinner was about to start.

"Mudblood," a voice hissed in her ear.

__

Malfoy.

"What do you want?" she asked carelessly. 

From behind her, he traced her jaw line with his forefinger. 

She flushed. "Ten points from Slytherin for your inappropriate conduct."

__

Stay calm. Get Madame Pince.

Sadly, her table was far from the checkout desk.

"Get…away…from…me," she said through gritted teeth. "Now."

He laughed, and then stroked her hair. "Soft," he murmured. "Though you don't deserve something like that. You don't deserve anything, bitch."

Irritated and nervous, now, Hermione jumped up from her seat, hastily gathered her belongings, and began to exit the Library, when a strong hand firmly gripped her wrist.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Granger," he said quietly.

"Let go."

In the shadows, Hermione could not see his pale hand strike her across the face. "Don't you ever talk to your superiors like that again," he growled.

They heard footsteps.

He leaned closer. "I'm warning you now – you are just a piece of filth. Do not stray in my path, or else--" he tightened his grip "—you'll pay."

She closed her eyes.

He was gone.

~*~

__

Knock knock.

"Enter, Miss Granger," Snape said cagily.

He watched as the arched doorway flung open and the Head Girl stood there, shaken.

"Is something the matter?" he asked.

She stepped into the classroom. "No, sir. I just came to ask you…"

"Yes?" Suddenly, Snape started.

__

Someone's hit her.

"Will--"

"Miss Granger," he interjected sharply, "who did that?" He raised a bony finger and pointed at the red mark across her face.

Consciously, her right hand flew to her cheek. "Oh…it's nothing. Sir, I--"

He rose from his desk and walked around it to face her. "Miss Granger," he said dangerously, his prominent nostrils on his hooked-nose flaring, "it would not be wise to lie to me. Now tell me – who did this to you?"

Hermione whimpered. "Don't, Professor. It's just--"

"Do…not…lie," he hissed, every word laced with venom.

"M-M-Malfoy," she whispered. The tears instantly began to streak down her face.

__

She's crying.

Before he could say anything more, a great fire burst into the middle of the room. The sparkling orange and red flames subsided after thirty seconds or so, leaving behind a single red feather, a dirty spoon, and a scroll.

__

Shit.

Without a moment's hesitation, Snape pounced on the ground, aiming for the parchment first. Hurriedly, he unrolled the scroll and quickly read the message.

__

Severus –

Emergency. Come now. Bring Miss Granger.

- Albus

He looked up at Hermione who was looking more perplexed than ever. He hastily eyed her left hand that lay limply at her side and seized it immediately. "Don't ask questions," he hissed at the sight of her open mouth.

With his other hand, Snape grabbed hold of the dirty spoon and thrust it between their joined hands.

  
~*~

The familiar navel-pulling force had suddenly released her and Hermione felt slightly less nauseous.

Hesitantly, she took in her surroundings.

They had landed in a street of what was clearly Muggle London. The street lamps hung gloomily in their places, none of which were lit. The small manors occupying Hermione's vision appeared fairly intimidating with their Gothic structuring.

"Professor, where--?" 

She was immediately silenced as the familiar, yet eerie shadowed street registered in her mind. She shut her mouth as she caught sight of the street sign at the end of the road bearing 'Grimmauld Place'. 

With Snape, she slipped through the shabby wooden door of number twelve.

~*~

****

A/N: I had to do _something _interesting. I'm glad I left the chapter like this so I can continue into chapter five with a clue – quite nice, for a change. The assault scene between Hermione and Draco was rather difficult to write…more so than one would fathom. I therefore ask you to hold your flames on that particular portion of the chapter, but if you feel it _that _necessary or tempting, I cannot stop you. Thank you for reading and, as always, please review.


End file.
